


pénitence

by noahlikeswaffles



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Dom Sherlock Holmes, Dom/sub, Face-Fucking, Humiliation, Language Kink, M/M, Master/Pet, Sharing, Spitroasting, Sub John Watson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:28:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28576737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noahlikeswaffles/pseuds/noahlikeswaffles
Summary: John is a very naughty sub, so Sherlock calls in his brother for reinforcements for a rather...interesting excersize.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

It hadn't been his fault at all, John thought with a pang of frustration as he knelt in the kitchen. His collar felt loose on his throat, and his chin touched his chest, his eyes shut tight. Sherlock had told him not to listen to the conversation he'd had with his brother, as if John could simply stop listening! How could he assist without collecting all the information he could? He could've pulled off pretending, he thought, if the conversation hadn't been about him! 

_"yes, well, despite his age John's sexual appetite is still rather high, it's like having a dog in heat sometimes. Did Gregory exhibit any libido increases at this stage of development?"_

Dog in heat, eh? John had been livid. Not often did he shout at his dom anymore, but that was too much for even him to handle. Self control had gone out the window. 

_"Sherlock! You can't just say things like that to strangers!"_

_"He's not a stranger, John, he's my brother, and your surrogate dom should anything happen to me."_

That last bit had been a shock. John hadn't really thought of that before, even with the many times Sherlock had cheated death. The thought of Mycroft being the one who owned him....was not unwanted, persay. But he hadn't had time to think about it for long before being stripped and given an impromptu- spanking for his backtalk. And now he was cuffed and naked in the sitting room, and a displeased Sherlock twiddling on his mobile from his armchair. The submissive shifted on his knees and his simmering pink buttocks itchy as they brushed his ankles. 

"Settle, John,"

Oh christ, John was dizzy at the amount of Dominance Sherlock's deep dark baritone was feeding him. It was almost too much to stay afloat. John winced when he heard the shifting of Sherlock's weight from his chair. Each elegantly strong footstep vibrated through his bare knees. A very silky trouser-clad calf brushed against his bare side and a spindly hand yanked John's chin upwards, his eyes boring into the tiny man. 

"Eyes up, John,"

John obeyed, but his glare spoke volumes. Bemusedly, Sherlock examined him. 

"Are you proud of your behavior John?"

John only huffed, staring at the wall and trying to rip his chin out of Sherlock's grip. It didn't work. 

"I suggest you speak, John, you may not be allowed to later," Sherlock caressed John's cheek playfully, his other hand winding through John's feathery blonde hair, tugging so slowly on his scalp that John almost didn't notice how much it was beginning to burn. 

"I didn't do anything wrong," John winced at a sharp tug, "sir,"

"No, John, this is a punishment,"

"I didn't do anything wrong _Master_ ," John spat distastefully. 

"Oh, someone is in sparkling form today," Sherlock deadpanned, second hand slapping hard and quickly across John's cheek. 

"Oi! Sir- Master, I didn't do nothin, I didn't!"

"Nothing...besides disobey an order, snoop into my private conversations, speak out of turn and continue to revel in this piss poor attitude?" 

"I can't bloody well turn my ears off- ow!" John squeaked as Sherlock's backhand hit him square on the mouth. Sherlock clicked his tongue and shook his head in such a condescending matter, John was sure that he'd throttle him if it weren't for the cuffs behind his back. 

"Language, John, honestly!" Sherlock let go of his hair, but an idea sparked in his eyes. "Oh yes, perfect." The detective grinned devilishly, turning his attentions back to John.

"Stand up," He said it as an order, but it was more the hands yanking him upwards than any real sense of submission that pulled John to his feet. His wrists were uncuffed quickly, and a quick swat relit the sting of his bum. John's gaze was directly on Sherlock, feeling oddly adolescent rebellion.

Sherlock observed him with a demeaning chuckle. The Dom held up his hand and snapped once, his eyes aglow with something that unsettled John's stomach. 

"Present," 

John glowered, but his body betrayed him, a direct command too hard to ignore, and knelt quickly, spreading his knees wide and lacing his fingers behind his head, eyes to the floor. 

"Good boy, John," Sherlock grinned, running his fingers through John's hair and the submissive found himself leaning into the touch with everything he had, thirsty for more. His anger was beginning to dissipate and he fought at tears in his eyes. 

Stupid body. Just because I was angry does not mean it is okay to get sad. 

"Shh, there John, it's alright, I know it doesn't feel good to be naughty," Sherlock murmured, and the submissive whimpered, coming dangerously close to actually feeling guilty. _I didn't do anything wrong...I didn't do anything...wrong...I..._

"I'm sorry, Master," John all but sobbed, pushing his forehead into Sherlock's thigh, nuzzling at his hip. The stars might fade and the earth could be on fire, but submissives will cry when they're punished. 

"You thought you knew better." Sherlock stepped away and John gasped, fingers tensing as he kept himself from reaching forward for Sherlock.

"No Master!"

"You kept things from me, and you disobeyed me,"

"No Master!"

"If you weren't up to the task, you could have said, couldn't you?"

John was silent, his lip pulled between his teeth and his eyes wide as saucers. His mind was fuzzy and he'd gone mute. His heart twisted and he shook his head, blubbering with tears. 

Sherlock's stony expression did not change and he held up his hand again, snapping two times before pointing to the floor. 

"Head first, John,"

The submissive felt like perhaps his forehead and the floor were magnetically attracted, falling onto his hands and knees before kowtowing to Sherlock. 

"Stay," Sherlock barked as he pulled out his phone and held it to his ear, lips drawn tight in annoyance. 

John gulped and stayed absolutely still, arse still awkwardly in the air. He glanced upwards when Sherlock suddenly was speaking french. He blinked, confused. Had there been a french case? Then he heart "frère" and "gâteau" his medschool latin caught up with his idiocy. 

Sherlock didn't trust him to listen in to his phonecalls to his brother. 

John gasped, boring his face into the ground as he cried, his skin burning with shame. 

"oui... oui... à bientôt" Sherlock clicked off his phone and tossed it onto his chair, barely sparing John a glance before walking past him to the kitchen. 

John shuffled on his knees, his head dizzy with blood flow in the position. His punishment wasn't over, why was Sherlock leaving? His thoughts were hazy and his vision was colouring. 

Sherlock returned, walking around John like he was nothing before flopping back into his chair, legs spread and his head thrown back. John could barely resist peeking a glance at his Dom like this, licking his lips. 

_"sur vos genoux,"_ Sherlock said, snapping his fingers at John and pointing to the floor between his legs. John blinked, staring straight at the floor. He didn't speak french. Was Sherlock not speaking to him...or...? John's eyes flickered to the riding crop, resting up against Sherlock's chair.

" _Avoir un QI d’huître_ ," Sherlock graoned and reached out his leg, poking John's good shoulder with his shoe. John dared a glance upwards, blue eyes wide and unsure. 

Sherlock looked at him with a cocky smirk and snapped his fingers again. John swallowed thickly, his heart quickening as he pushed himself upwards hesitantly. His hands shook as he folded them behind his head, shuffling forward till he was just so close he was almost touching Sherlock's thighs. John's head spun with what was happening, the pieces still not adding up. Did Sherlock realize the language he was speaking? Did they just turn on and off? 

Something told him that wasn't the case as Sherlock reached forwad and unbuckled John's collar, the leather slipping loose of his skin to reveal the paler ring of skin left in it's absence. John's throat constricted without it, his heart hammering at all the implications of not wearing a collar, before Sherlock simply replaced it with a second collar from his pocket. He pulled the buckles tight with aloof indifference and John swallowed against the polyester of the shock collar. Two metal propes dug into the skin at the back of his neck.

" _le chien parle-t-il?_ " Sherlock cocked his head bemusedly, gently turning the small black remote box around in his fingers, his eyes locked with John's. John's cheeks flared with flustered embarrassment at how simple it had been to unsettle John. Being unable to understand, being unable to know what Sherlock was saying was torturous, he wanted to know! How could he be of any use without knowing what was expected of him!

The rules of the game had been laid out to John, but he had a feeling he wouldn't win. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiya, I've got a lot more of this story written to share but I could use some feedback, is this a worthwhile concept? <3 <3 <3


	2. Chapter 2

The door rang a few moments later, and John froze. His eyes went wide and he looked searchingly up at Sherlock. Sherlock was unreadable, simply standing and walking smoothly to the other room. 

Creaking weight on the steps was instantly recognized and John paled, swallowing a lump in his throat as he shivered. Being naked, exposed and kneeling for Mycroft Holmes to see him in his disgace was mortifying. John could feel his cheeks pinken. 

" _ne ressentez pas le besoin de dire bonjour à Mme. Hudson!_ " Sherlock bellowed and John's stomach sank, the words completely unknown. 

The door creaked and John didn't look, but Mycroft made some smug note to Sherlock who chuckled in agreement. 

The Holmes brothers laughing together about anything did not bode well.

John tensed as the elder brother came nearer, the kettle whistling in the kitchen, Sherlock preparing tea. 

"a-t-il mérité une friandise?" Mycroft laughed, circling John and eyeing him with amusement. John's skin only turned pinker. 

" _Non_!" Sherlock laughed, and John was completely humiliated. What they could be saying...what could Sherlock being telling Mycroft about him? Or vice versa? It was enough to fill him so full of dread he wanted to vomit. 

Mycroft knelt down and scurffled his hair, John's eyerowd digging into a glare. He'd never try that when Sherlock was watching! Mycroft only grinned to himself, and the sight of Mycroft grinning was enough to freak John the fuck out. 

" _Oooouh le bon chienchien, oh que c'est un bon chienchien ça. C'est qui le bon chienchien!? Qui c'est le bon chienchien? Hein quiqui? Voilà, oui, voilà le bon chienchien!_ " Mycroft mocked with pure unadulterated glee, ruffling at John's air even as Sherlock returned. John squinted and growled. 

" _mauvais chien_!" Sherlock admonished and John shrieked when something thick bashed his nose. He blinked and looked up at Sherlock who held a cup and saucer of tea in one hand, and a rolled up magazine in the other. Did he just do that?

Mycroft and Sherlock exchanged some trite remarks before Sherlock returned to get his own cuppa, giving John a scolding finger.

John was still in mute disbelief when Mycroft whistled, the sub's head swiveling to his own chair, where Mycroft had folded his umbrella over his knee. 

Mycroft pat his leg in a gesture that undoubtedly said 'come here", and something else that John just knew was horrible. 

Sherlock was completely unhelpful, simply sitting in his chair and grinning into his tea. John blinked, his mortification hot on his cheeks. This was humiliating, utterly degrading and horribly confusing for his cock, who wasn't sure whether to get hard or not. John honestly didn't know which Sherlock expected of him. 

The fact that Mycroft was here was adding insult to injury, and John couldn't get out of his head the dozens of times the Holmes had commiserated on the blankminded nature of inferiors, and felt his skin raging with embarrassment. 

Mycroft gave him a sideways glance before patting his knee once more. John blinked, head swiveling between the elder and younger Holmeses. 

"Mycroft, sir, I-" John had barely spoken when the collar zapped, his neck exploding with pain, burning his skin and throbbing through his bones in a sharp ache. He groaned, falling forward on his hands and knees to growl through it, his shame only increasing. Mycroft tutted and Sherlock sighed apologetically. 

_"Je m'excuse pour lui, il semble avoir oublié ses manières aujourd'hui,"_

Shock collars got dogs to be quiet, John realized with agony, tears pricking at his eyes. Again, Sherlock snapped and pointed between Mycroft's feet and John whimpered as he obeyed, head hung between his shoulders, and if he had one, tail between his legs. The sub crawled to Mycroft, who pat his head and babytalked him more. 

John was seething with humilation, his eyes hazy in the middle distance, refusing to acknowledge this. He was a goddamn doctor, he was a soldier, he wasn't a damn dog! 

* * *

Sherlock didn't like Mycroft here. But he held in the grit teeth and glaring eyebrows for John's sake. It wasn't like his little crush on the elder Holmes wasn't common knowlege (whether John knew himself is another matter), and Sherlock was more than happy to up to ante so to speak with a bit of public humiliation, but nothing that might compromise John's trust in him as caretaker. 

A lesson needed to be learned. But that didn't mean Sherlock had to _enjoy_ his brother's sausage fingers in John's ashy blonde hair as he stroked Sherlock's pet. 

" _Don't get too comfortable,"_ Sherlock said in a tone so unfitting the words it was comical. 

" _Oh I know the rules of the game, brother dear, don't you worry,"_ Mycroft said mostly to his tea. " _I'm not one to forgive a sub's misdeeds easily, you know about Gregory's birthday, don't you?"_

 _"Oh yes, now that was a flogging if I'd ever seen one. Simply_ marvelous _craftsmanship, I must say,"_

John whimpered, uneasily resting his chin on Mycroft's knee, his muscles tense and his heartrate increased, Sherlock observed. He looked like a sheep, laying helplessly in the wolf's paws.

 _"Lovely weather today,"_ Mycroft said genially, scratching behind John's ear absently.

_"Oh please, chit chat? Now?"_

_"Well, he's your sub, the one with the quote, 'rabid sexual appetite' as you delicately put it, I figured this was some exercise in that department."_

" _I was thinking something akin to the incident in Hungary in 1997,"_ Sherlock practically giggled with anticipation, noting the twinkle in his brother's eye as well. 

" _Oh my, do you think he's up to it?_ " Mycroft said with a bit of a frown, grasping an unsuspecting John by his chin and inspecting his face closely. 

" _Oh he's an army boy, they do like it so much tougher_ " Sherlock sighed with mockery and Mycroft chuckled, both brothers watching John with evil grins.

" _Quite right,"_


End file.
